


Spark

by SwordDraconis113



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/SwordDraconis113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of mercenary work to get into Kirkwall, all Bethany wants is to keep her head down and remain hidden. Her brother, however, has other ideas. One of which includes helping a Pirate Captain duel at night, not to mention completing their end of the bargain with Flemeth's necklace, helping out anyone who has coin, as well as trying to set her up with Anders. </p><p>But as much as Bethany tries to follow and submit to her brother's wishes like the good sister she tries to be, Isabela has other ideas. And she doesn't mind using trickery to get what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simonsaysfunction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonsaysfunction/gifts).
  * Inspired by [heart skipped a beat and when I caught it you were out of reach](https://archiveofourown.org/works/372539) by [faithtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtastic/pseuds/faithtastic). 



“Come on,” her brother pleaded, smiling sweetly at Anders. “A drink will do you good.” 

Awkwardly, Bethany stood on the sidelines, watching as Garret’s eyes ran over the length of the warden's body. This was _not_ what she’d expected. When Garret had suggested celebrating the extra money they’d earned from the last job, she had thought that they’d head straight to the Hanged Man, have a few drinks and be on their merry way. 

Instead, her brother had lead her to Darktown. 

She hated feeling like a snob. Regardless of her mother’s previously owned Amell title, Bethany wasn’t a highborn. She never complained about the color of Orlesian silks not matching her eyes or lips, she didn’t bemoan on that her bed was too high and her skin cursedly too soft (mostly because none of those things were even _remotely_ true) but that didn’t stop her seething at the idea of walking in Darktown’s muck. 

She actually _liked_ her boots, even if the sole was wearing out. Staring down at them now, Bethany noticed that in the next month of so, she’d have to visit the cobbler up in Lowtown. That could cost anywhere between a few copper pieces to a couple of silvers for entirely new boots. 

Maker’s breath, now she was _really_ looking forward to a drink, or two. She had no intention of being a third wheel. No doubt, Varric and Aveline would talk stories, and Anders and Garret would stare lustfully into each others eyes, leaving her to sit alone and drink. 

If it’d been daylight, and she had felt safe enough, Bethany would have headed straight to the Hanged Man herself, or home. 

But already on their way here they’d ended up in a fight with thieves and mercenaries _twice_. The streets really weren’t safe and no matter how strong a mage she believed herself to be, numbers could easily overwhelm her abilities. Even just her and her brother had struggled against the eight or so men. 

Not that that didn’t stop Garret’s pleased expression as he looted money from their bodies. Nothing really stopped Garret’s chipper mood. He was like his mabari, Barkspawn, sometimes. And more often than Mother would like. 

“I’m not sure,” Anders continued. 

“Sis, tell him it’ll be fun,” Garret requested, looking over his shoulder at her. Bethany pushed off from the wall, grabbing her staff to fiddle with. “Bethany?” 

At the high pitch whine, spoken by her name, Bethany smiled up at the two men. 

Her brother was funny sometimes, especially when he looked at her with big blue eyes and a look of desperation cast over his features. Carver had never managed to master that puppy face. “It’ll be fun,” she promised, turning to Anders, “Varric tells the best stories. And even Aveline said she might make an appearance.” 

“Exactly!” Garret proclaimed. “And how long have you been working? You don’t have to _drink_ , but a night out with friends might relieve some tension.” Bethany cringed at the awkward flirting. They’d only known Anders for a couple of weeks, but already her brother was smitten by him. 

Not that he really _said_ anything to her. It was all over-the-top flirting and wild looks of amazement. Sometimes the offhand comments to her about how powerful Anders was. She was lucky Garret stopped there given his usual history. But it wasn’t much of a surprise that Anders worked his magic, Garret always did have a thing for dangerous and wounded souls. 

His words, not hers. 

“Doesn’t your magic work better when you’re feeling relaxed?” her brother tried one last time. 

Anders’ finally relented, letting out a sigh as he nodded. “It might do me some good,” he agreed. “It _has_ been a while since I’ve taken a night off.” 

Garret beamed, slapping his shoulder rather hard in excitement. “Excellent! First round’s on me then,” he proclaimed, not noticing the mage wince from the slap as he swung around to face his sister. 

Bethany shook her head, walking over to stand by the apostate healer. “It’s swill,” she whispered to him. “Even the water tastes horrid there.” 

“I know. But maybe the pleasant company will make up for the drinks.” Sharing a warm smile, he shrugged off her worries. 

Bethany blinked, momentarily stunned before she smiled back. Perhaps Anders’ company wouldn’t be so bad, she thought quietly. He was a nice man after all, and one who’d recently lost a dear friend. The loneliness of that he showed was part of the reason why Garret had invited him to come with them. 

She knew where her brother was coming from, a part of him just wanted to make Anders smile again like he had in their first meeting, and that was great. But she just wished that the not-so platonic feelings were expressed when she wasn’t around. 

She didn’t need to see her brother flirt, especially not this horrendously. It made herfeel awkward and weirded out. And she’d walked in on Carver masturbating once. 

“I’m just going to lock up and make sure everything’s okay,” Anders explained. Understanding, Garret nodded before leading Bethany outside of the Clinic. She could see her brother smiling proudly underneath the Clinic lamp. It was the same smile he’d get when he’d mastered a new battle tactic. 

“It’s going to be a good night,” Garret smiled down at her. “We deserve some fun.” 

“I think you and I have different ideas of fun,” she replied dryly. 

“I’ll tell you what, how about instead of drinks I save the money I would have spent on your ale, and give it to you to go shopping with later.” Bethany looked up at him, surprised by the generosity. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. But you’ll still come to the Hanged Man, right?” 

Bethany smiled, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss her brother’s cheek. “Of course. Thank you, brother.” 

“Any time,” he murmured, ruffling her hair. Bethany cringed, but that didn’t stop the affectionate smile she gave him when he stopped. It almost made up for what she knew would be a night of third-wheels, or fifth. Maybe Aveline wouldn’t show, or Varric would be too busy and she’d have someone to talk to. 

From inside the Clinic, they could hear Anders directing some of his assistance, making sure they were well stocked, before locking up with a final, “I’ll be at the Hanged Man if any emergencies happen to come by.” The door creaked shut and the lamp flickered off. They were, for the most, done for the night. 

Hopefully nothing happened while Anders was gone. 

An odd silence fell over them as they began their walk back to Lowtown. Uncomfortably, she kicked at pebbles on the ground, her hands fiddling with the new staff. She could see that Garret kept his eyes steady in front, waiting for the next sign of danger, or perhaps pensively thinking over an ideal topic. Anders, however, kept a steadier pace beside her. He seemed more relaxed, though she noticed him glancing back towards the clinic’s direction once or twice. 

“Anders?” she asked when the silence became unbearable. 

“Yes?” 

“Your magic. Healing. Do you think you could teach me to be as good- or well?” She bit her tongue, fumbling over the words. She hadn’t meant for her words to come out like that. “I mean, do you think that you could give me pointers. No matter how much I try, I usually leave scars on wounds when you’re not there.” 

“Women like scars,” Garret jested, knowing Bethany hated that she left more than a few knife-blade across his abdomen or shoulder due to a lack of skill. She had the talent, but not the ability. 

“Ah,” Anders smiled, “that’s about technique. That’s actually not something I can really teach you to be honest. Different mages work differently. I mean you can read and talk to people, see how they do it and test it out for yourself, but each mage is different. Sometimes it’s really just about getting lucky and stumbling on what works for you.” 

“Why?” she asked. Her father had been a mage, but he’d never explained how things worked. It’d be frustrating to say the least, but she realized now that there were a thousand and one things to teach her, he just simply hadn’t had the time on top of working and looking after his family. But he made an effort and there was no denying that it showed. 

“Magic flows differently through them. One mage may use wilder movement, larger casts, another requires a more flourish in their movements, precision in how they move their hands or staff. Actually, I once knew a mage who always kept her hand on the staff to focus her energy, but used her hands to expel the magic.” 

“Did it work for her?” Bethany asked. 

“Not at all, but she stubbornly refused to try any other way.” He smiled, looking over at Bethany. “Besides, I thought you practiced elemental magic, not healing so much.” 

“I do! My father taught me. But sometimes I wish I could do _more_ to help, you know? Ice and fire’s all well and good but what if Garret gets hurt and you’re not there? What if we run out of injury kits or health poultices, or he’s fallen down and can’t-” 

In front of them, Garret scoffed as he looked over at them. “Didn’t I tell you sis? I’m _invincible_.” 

She glared, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to express her fears. “Now you sound like Carver,” she scolded. Garret smirked, turning back to walk up the steps to Lowtown. She paused for a few moments, thinking back on her other brother. Her twin. There were days where she was sharply aware of his absence like she’d lost a limb. 

He was her brother, just as he was Garret’s, but Bethany knew Garret didn’t understand. Couldn’t. But he tried. “If I’d been better,” she whispered, “maybe I could have saved Carver.” 

Anders didn’t say anything. For a moment she hoped he hadn’t heard her. 

It was a stupid wish rotten with guilt. She shouldn’t have said anything let alone admit something that had been buried inside her depths. That had been a private thought, one that kept her up most nights, but one she hadn’t had any intention of burdening on others. 

“I have a few books I can lend you,” Anders replied. “They might help.” 

“Thank you.” 

She wished she hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the walk followed with more silence, and then eventually Garret became tirelessly weighed down by the pregnant pause, that he broke it with a joke. It was one he remembered about Templars and Mages. Anders seemed to laugh, which was a relief, and he’d returned with a joke of his own. 

Bethany smiled. It was nice, and even though she still felt awkward in what she’d said- 

_Maker_ , Anders was far older than her, experienced, and a warden on top of that! He didn’t want to go around helping girls with their magic, and he’d dealt with far worse than just losing _one_ person. 

-It was comforting to see her brother smiling freely. It’d been a while since he’d grinned openly like that with no secrets, no hidden emotions behind his eyes as they passed jokes back and forth between them. 

“Alright so a Mage and a Templar enter a bar. And the templar says, ‘Barkeep, I'd like to buy my good friend the finest drink in the house.’ The barkeep turns to the mage and says, ‘You need to stop with this Blood Magic crap.’” 

Garret laughed, “That’s an old one, goes back to Ferelden doesn’t it?” 

“It’s the first joke I learnt at the Circle. You couldn’t say it around a Templar though, they’d get nervous. It was rather funny I have to admit, but I think the Templars here would lock me up before I’d get a chance to finish the joke. They seem a bit high-strung.” 

Rolling her eyes, Bethany pushed through the Hanged Man’s door and paused. Behind her, her brother and Anders voice went quiet as across the bar, a fight broke out. 

A woman, dressed in a short, white tunic that seemed to show more than it hid, smashed a particularly rattish face against the bar top. Bethany watched, as the woman turned, pushing away from the man, only to be captured by strong arms that pinned hers against her sides. 

Bethany grasped at her staff, ready to pull it free and break into the fight, but the woman, her appeared more amused than worried by being captured, kicked back hard. The arms dropped away before her boots landed on the floor hard. Swiftly, she turned and kicked again at his belly, booting the man into the bar’s column support. 

Bethany watched amazed as the woman’s hand slid over her shoulders to the daggers golden handle on her back. Slicing it through air, she pressed it to a third man’s neck. 

“Tell me Lucky,” she heard the woman speak, “is this worth dying for?” 

Thankfully the man, knowing he was defeated, backed off with his goons. The woman, adjusting the blue sash around her waist, watched them leave before returning back to her drink as though nothing had happened. Bethany stared, flabbergasted by the entire event. 

“Well, you don’t get to see that everyday,” Garret murmured. 

“You do at the Hanged Man,” Anders replied. 

“I guess,” Garret rubbed at the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Alright, I need to talk to Varric for a bit about the Deep Roads expedition and then we’ll have some drinks, okay? It’ll only be for a few minutes I think.” 

“I’ll look after your sister.” 

“Thanks. You’ll be all right here, Beth? You won’t go running back home before I come back.” 

“Yes- no. I’ll be here,” Bethany fumbled a reply, her eyes tearing from the woman’s back. How were Garret and Anders not _amazed_ by what just happened? How was _no one_ surprised? The woman had just took on three men by herself as though she did it daily. And maybe she did, Bethany realized. But no one else seemed to notice or care, the entire tavern had turned back to their respected conversations and moved on with their lives. 

How? She couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering back to the pirate, watching as she chatted teasingly towards the barkeep. The woman moved so fluidly, swiftly like nothing Bethany had ever seen before. And when she’d been captured, she’d taken only a breath before the man had been thrown backwards. As if it was easy! 

And it wasn’t. Bethany used to play-fight with her brothers and more than once they’d locked her in grip. Movement like that required serious flexibility. Flexibility that she just didn’t have. 

“Are you okay?” 

She blinked, turning to Anders, “what? Oh yeah, it’s just...I’ve never seen someone take on a group of men by themselves before.” 

“We take on groups like that often,” he teased. 

“I know, but it’s different when you have someone with you. By yourself, no one’s watching your back,” she explained. “If I were by myself, all they’d have to do is get up close. I can’t fight close ranged, I’d get myself in the crossfire and I can’t beat them off with my staff.” 

Anders frowned, “I couldn’t honestly say. Melee fights aren’t my forte.” 

“They aren’t mine either,” Bethany sighed. The two of them were mages, their power came in distance, clustered attacks and long-range fires. She’d never be that fluid, that flexible and swift in battle. The woman had been there one moment and somewhere else the next. 

“Well...perhaps you should go over and ask for lessons in fighting?” 

Bethany turned, shooting Anders a dark look. “I fight well by myself. I might not fight like her, but I can hold my own in a distance. If I see them coming.” 

“I know.” It was meant sympathetically, but Bethany just felt patronized. 

Sighing, she avoiding looking at Anders, knowing she’d feel guilty if he had his eyes wide-open. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. It was just a sore-spot. Garret could take a horde, even Carver had been good up-close with numbers, he’d even been in battle more than once. Bar brawls and fights more so. But whenever anything got too close to her, she’d either freeze, flail wildly, or go running backwards. 

It wasn’t a pretty sight. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Let’s just...sit down, or something.” Anders nodded, pulling his staff from his back to lean against the wall as he sat down at the table near the fire. Bethany’s own staff leant against her chair. She didn’t like it being out of arms reach. 

The two of them probably looked like scholars, mages on leave from the circle to study magic. At least until Garret came back with Varric, and a round of drinks. 

But when Garret came out from Varric’s room, he didn’t just get drinks. The dwarf, however, sat himself contently down on one of the chairs Bethany pushed out for him as her brother walked past to the bar and ended up in conversation with the woman from the fight. 

“Who’s she?” Bethany asked, watching conversation pass between her brother and the woman. There was light flirting if her brother’s stance meant anything. The woman, too, seemed to look him up and down admiringly. Of course. Men, women, whoever and whatever; if they were interested, they were interested in him. 

“Isabela?” Varric asked, turning to look where her eyes laid. He shrugged when Bethany’s swung back to face him. “Haven’t gathered much to be honest. She’s searching for something. Had Lucky running around for information.” 

“Lucky?” Bethany blinked. Had that been the dagger to his throat? 

“Yeah, poor sod couldn’t find information if someone was blabbering it to his face.” Varric shook her head, lying Bianca down on the table. “Why do you ask?” 

“She got into a fight before.” 

“She’s a pirate, they tend to do that.” Bethany shook her head, looking down at her hands. It didn’t matter, if she asked anything more, Anders would start questioning her motives. And ‘just curious’ wouldn’t be a satisfying response, no matter her honesty. After a pause, she tilted the conversation back to a more playful teasing game of trying to trick Varric in to explaining how Bianca was named. 

It lasted only a few moments before Garret swaggered back, grinning like a fool she knew he wasn’t. Without drinks, she noticed scowling. He must have been _really_ distracted for that. Probably due to the gravity-defying breasts. 

“I have us a job,” he grinned. 

Oh. 

Bethany looked at where Isabela had been, it’d be replaced by some handsy couple that was most certainly not her. Blinking back at her brother, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t a _paid_ job?” 

“It could lead to a paid job,” Garret defended. “She’ll put in a good reputation or something. Plus, there’s a good chance of a healthy loot.” 

Bethany sighed. I was one of _those_ jobs. 

“What’s the...ah, job?” Varric asked. 

“She needs someone to watch her back. Doesn’t trust some guy to play fair.” 

“Where?” Anders asked. 

“High Town. Look it’s an easy job, we go there, we make sure it’s fair play, and then we leave.” 

“And if it isn’t?” Varric asked. 

“We fight, I guess.” 

“One day, we’ll have an evening where the most exciting thing that happens is a cup of tea being too hot,” Bethany muttered. 

“Now that wouldn’t be much fun. I wouldn’t be able to taste Mother’s delicious gruel then.” 

Bethany smiled up at him, “I see your point. Money would be nice for a hot meal.” 

“Think of a meat dish. We could have _real_ food, with a side dish.” 

“Now you’re just teasing me,” she laughed. Sitting back, Bethany nodded, “okay. We’ll do this. When does she want it done?” 

“We have time for a round of drinks!” 

Bethany’s hand slapped over her face in second-hand mortification. She shouldn’t be surprised that happened. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened this month. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garret stepped closer, looking at her like she was the six year old who cried when she was pushed down, not the nineteen year old who’d ran from the blight, holding her own just as he had. It made her furious when he looked at her like that, even if she knew it came from the best intentions.

Bethany had come to realize that it was a running theme with them that plans _never_ went according to plan.

From against the wall, Aveline looked over, shaking her head as Bethany patted down the body. There were a few coins to pull out of his pockets, a potion she kept for herself, but nothing of interest. Isabela, the pirate who’d initiated this job, was scowling as she looked over the body she had, pocketing a few things of interest as well.

“This is not what I had expected,” Aveline murmured.

“Would you rather Varric had come?” Anders asked.

“Not a chance. If you blighted fools had brought him along then there would have been only one melee attack. You’d all be dead or running around like headless chickens,” she was teasing, but she was right. Bethany smiled up at her and the red-headed guardsmen smiled back as she slung her shield back onto its hook.

“One melee?” Isabela’s voice rang. “I’ll have you know that I took down _six_ of the twelve men.” Aveline snorted, tossing her head. There was no love lost between her and the pirate, but Isabela _had_ been truthful. Bethany had seen her in action. The woman had flown across the battlefield, disappearing one moment only to appear behind them in the next, a blade slicing against the enemies’ throat.

Bethany hadn’t needed to watch out for her, but she’d been mesmerized. So much so that she almost hadn’t seen one the thugs that had lunged at her, missing her by inches. She’d managed to dodge, just barely before stumbling. backwards. Then, as a reflex as he’d come at her again, Bethany had thrown a fireball, burning the thug blind until her brother had heard her cry out and ran over to cut the the thug in half.

After that, he’d thrown her a worried look and awkwardly, she’d pulled her staff closer, moving to freeze her next target.

She didn’t make the mistake again.

“It’s a bloody shame,” Isabela muttered to herself, kneeling over another body, closer to Bethany. “I could be halfway through my next drink if Hayder had the decency to face me himself. Bloody coward. The lot of them.” Bethany chuckled at the comment. Isabela sounded so _offended_ that a cheating liar would _lie_ to her.

Smirking pleased, Isabela looked over at her. “It’s true. Never trust people who deal in pirates.”

“But aren’t _we_ dealing with pirates?”

“ _Pirate_. Emphasis on the lack of plural. And I’ll have you know that I’m a captain. We have a very specific code to follow.”

“A code?” Bethany asked. Her face lit up, stories of dashing pirates with hearts of gold filled her mind from the books she had stuffed under her mattress. Again, Isabela chuckled, noticing the adventurous sparkle in the young mage’s eyes.

“I’ll tell you what, sweetness. Come by later and I’ll tell you _all_ about a captain’s code in lengthy detail.”

Bethany paused, eyes narrowing before she caught the smirk. “O-oh,” she stumbled.

“ _There_ we go,” Isabela winked.

Bethany felt her cheeks redden harshly under the woman’s smirk. Her brother, thankfully, chose that moment to direct Isabela’s attention to his findings. A note, Bethany saw, before casting her eyes down to the stone ground. How _embarrassing_. Isabela must think she was so _stupid_ to have reacted that way.

Unclenching her hands, Bethany shook her head. How had she been so naive? She didn’t usually miss blatant innuendo; she was Garret's sister, Carver’s too. It was pathetic and made her feel like a child. Lifting her staff, she threaded it back into its holsters before following where the others were. She’d think on it later. Now, she had to focus on the task at hand.

“He’s at the chantry?”

Isabela cursed. “I’ve always hated that blighted place.”

“The Chantry? Again?” Bethany asked, worriedly looking from Anders to her brother. “But what of the templars?”

Garret frowned. Bethany watched as his expression hardened in worry at the sound of voice. She hated it when he did that. “Did you want to stay back?” Garret asked. Bethany bit her lip. She _did_ , but not if it sounded like he was coddling her.

“There won’t be Templars,” Isabela rang in, “Hayder would have taken care of that issue. I promise.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to trust you,” Bethany said looking over at her.

Isabela smiled mirthfully. “Aren’t you a quick learner?” she teased. “No, I suppose not. Take it this way: I’m most certainly leading you into a trap, but I’m certain there won’t be Templars. However, if there is, I promise to break you out of the circle.”

Bethany uncomfortably felt her hands clench, as she swallowed back any comments she might have had. It was a bold statement from Isabela, but an empty one.

“Come on, Kitten. Didn’t you ever want to do something naughty inside of a Chantry?” Her cheeks flushed at the words, watching Isabela’s lips curve suggestively.

“Bethany is a good girl. If she wants to leave, she can,” Aveline said defensively. Bethany’s head duck in embarrassment. Maker’s breath, she wasn’t a baby and this wasn’t her first job up against mercenaries.

“No. It’s okay, I’ll come.”

“Are you sure?” Aveline asked. “Don’t feel you have to, just because your brother’s here.”

“Hey-!” Garret’s voice rang, falling when Aveline shot him a dark look. “She’s right though,” he said to his sister, “you don’t have to come. Nor you, Anders. If either you feel unsafe, you’re free to leave.”

Anders waved dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I can look out for myself.”

“Bethany?”

“You know,” Isabela broke in, “She can handle herself fine from what I saw. I don’t see what you are all fretting about. She’s not some child to be coddled, and to be honest, we could do with two mages. I have no idea how many we’ll be facing in there.” She paused, tilting her head to smirk, “well, I have some idea.”

Aveline scowled, “that doesn’t mean she has to involve herself in a place where there might be templars.”

“Can’t she just...magic them away?”

“No!”

“Well that’s no fun. Fine, if she really wants to go, she can go,” Isabela rolled her eyes. “I won’t be the one to force her left or right.”

“I’ll be fine!” Bethany snapped as Aveline went to say something else. “Honestly. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she muttered the last past, clenching her staff to steady herself.

“Are you sure?” Garret stepped closer, looking at her like she was the six year old who cried when she was pushed down, not the nineteen year old who’d ran from the blight, holding her own just as he had. It made her furious when he looked at her like that, even if she knew it came from the best intentions.

“It’s alright,” she replied defensively. “Besides, you will all need me if Anders falls. Who will heal you then?” Aveline laughed, stepping closer to lay a hand on her shoulder. Bethany wondered if she felt how tense she was. She didn’t like been patronized; Garret was only a few years older than herself, they shouldn’t all direct their attention to her like _she_ was the child.

“Well. Now that’s settled,” Isabela broke in, smiling at everyone., “How about we all come this way and get Hayder?” Turning, she swung her hips, walking towards the Chantry courtyard. Bethany took a breath, waiting for everyones eyes to move from her, before she followed.

As the quiet thankfully settled over them, Bethany breathed out in relief. She hadn’t expected Isabela to stand up for her, if anything she’d expected the exact opposite. Someone as skilled and powerful as Isabela? Bethany had thought she would belittle her, especially at how easy it’d been to make her blush.

However, at first glance, she hadn’t exactly expected Isabela to be so brazen either. She should have, the woman _was_ a pirate after all, and a captain at that. There was also no denying that she certainly dressed for attention, but...it was difficult to say. The moment Isabela turned away from them, towards the Chantry, she was back to being all business. Even if her hips swayed for Garret’s benefit.

“Stop it,” Bethany hissed, slapping her brother’s arm plating. Anders was standing beside him, a look of hurt across his features. “ _Garret_.”

Garret looked away from the blue sash, and smiled down at her. “Jealous?”

“Hilarious,” she replied deadpan. Garret smirked pleased. “Just...be polite, okay?” Bethany nodded towards Anders, where the young man walked quietly, head bowed in thought. Garret took a moment to blink before turning back to his sister.

“What?” he asked confused, looking between her and the mage. Bethany folded her arms, glaring. But before she had a chance to _subtly_ hint towards Anders again, Isabela’s battle cry was heard from the Chantry Courtyard.

As Bethany froze, Garret and Aveline rushed in, crashing through the fight until all that was heard was a cacophony of sounds. Swords clanging together, bashing against shields or swiping the air. Bethany could hear Isabela’s taunts, while Aveline threatened. Garret, however, remained quiet, grunting in effort.

Swallowing, Bethany ran up to where Anders stood, seeing the twelve or so thugs. She could get in the middle, alight the grounds and blast out others, but instead she opted to stay behind, side-by-side with Anders to attack from across the battlefield. It would be safer, she nodded. Though a part of her was afraid that one of the thugs would corner her again.

She wouldn’t let it happen.

Ice and fire flew from her staff, igniting the battlefield. Her other hand directed the flow, fingers entwining strands of magic, pulling from within her as her staff punched through the air. Only sparks flying from the wood, a damaged spell. By the Maker, it wasn’t as strong as she’d hope but still, the guard she’d hit flew backwards, stunned from the attack.

Besides her, Anders worked faster, stronger as he used one hand to weave hexes and jinxes. She watched as thugs became caught in the hexes, their energy depleted or otherwise stumbling immobile into the traps.

‘ _I’ll have to learn that_ ,’ she thought, feeling fire heat her fingers until she cast it out. The blasted, hitting the desired target, stunned back Aveline. Bethany was thankful that the shield had been raised in time to stop majority of the heat and light. But still she saw the guardsman glanced at her sharply, grunting as she struck the burning thug.

Her brother, however, sliced through the battlefield in a large arc, his great sword swinging wildly in an attack that threw the thugs backwards into a pillar. Isabela’s laugh called across from the courtyard and before Bethany could spot her, she was suddenly there, back-to-back with her brother, smirking as she attacked with her twin daggers.

Bethany watched, throwing an attack to a group of thugs, as Isabela plunged a dagger into the leader’s shoulder before she swung over him, spinning when she landed to drive her other dagger into his back. As he fell to his knees, she ripped free one of her daggers, throwing it into another man’s heart.

Only a few thugs remained, her brother locked in battle with one, and Aveline with another. Stragglers watched from afar, aiming arrows that didn’t hit. Bethany’s own attack diminished into the air when, instead of hitting the target, it flew over his head as the thug dropped to his knees, Isabela only seen for a flash before she disappeared back into the shadows to attack the next one.

Furiously, an ice blast took down three men before a final battle cry was heard as the last thug died by Aveline’s hand. Bethany panted, weakened from the attacks as she felt her body relax from the battle poise.

Bethany shook her head, feeling dizzy as Anders hit her with a rejuvenation spell. “ _That_ one you’ll teach me,” she murmured, watching him smile.

“It’s an easy one. Come by sometime in the week and I’ll show you.”

Bethany nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”

“I take it none of those were Hayder?” her brother asked, already midway through looting the bodies as Isabela began climbing the Chantry steps.

“Common thugs, hired to take us down.” She tossed a smile at him, watching him bend over to pick up a few silvers from the pockets. “I think I might join you on these kinds of jobs if you keep that up.”

“Looting?” he asked, not looking back as he threw a potion Anders’ way.

“That too.”

Bethany felt queasy at the flirtatious exchange, her eyes looking to Anders, only to see him somewhat oblivious to what was happening. Aveline, however, just rolled her eyes. Stomping over, Bethany glared down at her brother. By then, Isabela was already halfway up the Chantry’s steps, waiting for them. “Could you not?” she asked her brother.

“Loot? We need all the stuff we can get, look, here’s a belt. I think it’s enchanted or something, my attacks didn’t seem to do hit as well.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, snatching the belt from his grip before tying it around her waist. “Could you not _flirt_. With her?”

“Why? It’s just harmless flirting,” he smiled. “You should try it. Better yet, try it on Anders. He’s nice enough to appreciate it.”

Bethany glared. “You’re impossible sometimes!”

“I know. But you love me.”

“Only when you’re nice.”

“Hey! I got you a new belt.”

“ _Looted_ me a new belt,” she corrected sharply.

Aveline coughed besides them, drawing attention away from the petty fight. “Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go back to my night off.”

“You’re right, sorry.” She sighed, looking down at her brother. He was confused at her anger, he wasn’t acting different to any other night. He was just his usual pigheaded, flirty self. Smiling down at him defeated, she held out a hand to help him up, “Come on, I’m sure the good loot’s inside.”

Taking her hand, Garret rose grinning. “I know. I look forward to collecting it.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes, following him up the stairs. She looked back at Anders, smiling when he caught her eye. She just hoped he didn’t mind Garret’s nature. It was harmless, he’d never intentionally hurt anyone, but there were times when he was too oblivious to see what was happening right in front of him.

At the Chantry door, Isabela stood poised against the archway, frowning unhappily.

“Something wrong?” Garret asked

“No,” she shook her head, smiling. “Come on, let’s get Hayder. This has been a long time coming.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I’ll keep to the DAII plot, sometimes I’ll step sidewards to a little more AU. The general plots will remain intact (recruit the people, get gold for the Deep Roads, etc) but the dialogue might not always be there. I find reading fics that have word-for-word of long drawn out dialogue from the game, lazy. Isabela-Bethany banter will be quoted through-out the fic, and some of the main dialogue will but all of them will either be extended or added upon. For the most, it’s not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bethany downs a potion, she learns too-late to always have your exits covered.

Bethany gripped her staff tightly, watching from the sidelines. She could only hear snippets of the conversation; mostly revolving around the fact that Hayder wanted something from Isabela, Isabela didn’t have it, and something about cargo. But from what she gathered, slaves had been involved. 

Her stomach turned sickly. The idea of slaves? No, she couldn’t imagine being part of a slave-trade. A part of her warmed at the idea of Isabela setting free the slaves,though the rest of knew there was more to the tale. There had to be. Why did she have Slaves in the first place? 

Awkwardly, beside her, Anders weight shifted as he leant against his staff. 

Bethany’s eyes narrowed as Hayder’s right hand woman stepped closer, scowling at Isabela threateningly. She didn’t like the woman, didn’t like how she scowled. It was unsettling, even if she couldn’t hear what was being said. 

Isabela reached behind her, pulling out a hidden dagger before throwing it sharply towards the woman. Startled, Bethany watched as the right-hand fell to her knees, shocking Hayder still only temporarily before he drew his broadsword. 

There was no time to think, the sound of metal clamored the Chantry but she was too far back to hit anyone with her spells. Running, she moved closer, keeping to sidelines to aim her staff. Anders however, remained behind, spindling a trap before Bethany could twist her magic into fire. As the fight broke out, she hurdled a flame ball towards the clustered group, satisfied as the group divided, flying in different directions. 

The others, all who’d drawn their swords, or in Isabela’s case, her daggers, attacked the separated group, keeping most of them from trying to attack her or Anders. 

Bethany felt a spell sparked sideways from the other mage, hitting two men. Awkwardly, one of the spelled-men bounced off Hayder before stumbling back into a pillar. It would have been more amusing if it hadn’t distracted her from those who _weren’t_ caught in battle. 

Shit. 

Bethany yelped as one of the men sprung forward, awkwardly, an ice attack slipped from her fingertips. It’d meant to freeze him solid, but the attack was blundered and he fell backwards, only shivering from the cold as he shook off the stunned attack. However, it was enough for her to wack him with her staff, throwing sparks towards his eyes, and burning his sword hand. 

Bethany hit him again, her lungs constricting tightly as she used the last of her pent up magic to properly freeze him. A final _thwack_ made him brittle, sending him rushing to the ground where the ice broke into pieces and leaving his body dead from the fast attacks. 

Panting, she fumbled for a potion, swallowing it for the rush of magic that spun through her. It was refreshing, exhilarating and sweet, like a drink after a long days work in the field. She tossed the empty bottle away from her before looking over the battlefield. 

If it could be called that. 

Isabela’s laugh rang through the Chantry, bouncing off the pillars and walls. Her brother’s grunts were in between hers and Aveline’s battle cry, a hard masculine difference in tone. Bethany grinned, taking a moment to breathe before she threw a spell towards her brothers way, stunning his attacker. Behind her, she could feel Anders’ presence, the familiar hum of magic that flashed past her in a bolt towards an incoming attack. 

“Bethany-!” 

She turned, too late as a the hilt of a sword crashed down into her head. Falling backwards, she skidded on the ground as her staff rolled from her fingertips. 

_What happened?_

Dizzily her head swam, exploding with pain. Forcing her eyes open, she could see Anders form, surrounded by mercenaries, and from behind her, she could hear the others calling out taunts, still locked in attacks with Hayder and any of his men left standing. It was with a dull awareness Bethany realized that the reinforcements must have swarmed through the Chantry front door. 

‘ _Always have your exits covered_ ,’ she heard her father’s voice ring through her head. 

Looking at the two men coming at her, she felt her hands desperately scavenge for her staff, needing to feel it beneath her fingers for focus. Without the runed wood, her attacks were weakened and wild. 

She glanced quickly left and right. From the corner of her eye, she could see her staff. It’d rolled to the other side of the hall, against the large, closed wooden doors. Even if she ran, she couldn’t reach it in time. 

Flicking her eyes back, her heart stopping as she watched one man raise a sword, intending to drive it down into her belly. She had time for a thought, a wish as all her doubts and fears became meaningless. There was just that, just the sword be driven down. 

Bethany watched in horror, frozen by her fear as he plunged forward. There was a flash, metal whistling against the air as he brought it down, before it clashed into something else. Bethany shuddered out as a breath as Isabela’s boots caught her eyes, her thigh muscle straining against the pressure of pushing her dagger against the sword. 

Thank the Maker, she almost sobbed, a hand curling up over her heart. 

“Now, that’s no way to play nice. Poor thing had lost her weapon.” 

The man growled as Bethany flushed, scrambling backwards. She tensed hitting something metallic hard. Before she could yelp or even tremble, she felt her brother’s worried hands lift her back off the ground, from his boots, as Aveline’s shield clashed against the other man’s sword. 

Isabela dropped sideways, ducking beneath the sword. Bethany watched, her brother’s hands still protectively around her, as the pirate kicked out the man’s knees from him. As he fell, she drove her dagger between the gap of his helmet and armor through the back of his neck. A gutted sound came out, blood spluttering from his mouth as Isabela then twisted and yanked her dagger out. 

The man fell as many of the others had, harshly towards the ground where a slow pool of blood began to form. Still shuddering from fear, Bethany felt her thoughts wonder what the Chantry sisters would feel when they saw such a blasphemous mess. 

Would they scream or cry? Maybe the templars would find it first and clean it up before the sisters rose to the area. She hoped so. 

Lifting her eyes, she watched as Isabela turned around, finding herself without anyone to fight as Aveline took the last man down. 

Silence fell over them thickly and Bethany shivered, feeling the leather of her brother’s gloves squeeze her shoulders. Shamefully, she tugged from his grip and ran for her staff, clutching it to her. The runes were rough on her hand, familiar. She wouldn’t lose it again. 

She couldn’t. 

Tiredly, she looked up from her staff, over to the central hall of the Chantry where Hayder laid dead. Isabela must have killed him, then ran for the next attack. But she hadn’t seen it play out. Someone else may have killed him. However it happened, she was thankful for Isabela’s sudden appearance in front of her. 

“Are you okay?” Aveline asked her. 

Bethany nodded, healing herself quietly. She could almost hear her brother mumbling that she _should_ have gone, stayed away from this fight. Casting her eyes to him, she silently warned against saying any words. She may have lost that fight, but she wouldn’t let her brother take away any shred of dignity she had left. 

“That went well,” Isabela remarked, cleaning blood from her daggers before holstering them. Bethany didn’t stay to watch as the pirate swaggered over to Garret, her eyes still gleaming from the fight. Instead, she turned away, inclining to busy herself with looting. 

She didn’t want her brother’s or Isabela’s eyes on her, she didn’t need to see them looking down at her with pity, or patronizing worry. Her stomach twisted at the thought. 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Anders whispered as she dug through the pockets of a half burnt man. His flesh was peeling around his eyes where the spell had hit him strongest. “That could have been me, as well.” 

“You didn’t fall on your ass,” she replied. “ _Or_ lose your staff. Who does that?” she shook her head, biting her tongue. Mages held onto their staff like a warrior held onto their swords. Tighter, possibly. A warrior could still just as strongly cause damage with his hands. Bethany was feeble without her staff. She hadn’t practiced her spells enough to focus them for an unarmed attack. 

“I could teach you,” Anders said. “Some basics in open hand attacks.” 

“Like magic?” 

He smiled, nodding at her. “Would you like that?” 

Bethany felt breath shake at kindness, and slowly she nodded, “Very much so.” 

“Alright, we’ll make a plan. Some time when neither of us are busy. I’ll lend you a few books to read over first, sometimes theory helps before practice.” 

“T-thank you,” she murmured before self-consciously asking, “are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” 

Anders shrugged, “working with the Wardens made it a necessity to learn, before then I was much the same. I don’t mind passing on some skills to others. Especially pretty Hawke’s.” 

Bethany blushed at the words, feeling herself beam at the kindness. 

“What are you talking about?” Garret asked, walking over to where Hayder’s body was. Bethany lifted her head, turning to where Isabela had left. She hadn’t even heard the Chantry doors open and close again, but the pirate was nowhere in sight. “Oh! Good find in gold here. Before you know it, we’ll be halfway through the Deep Roads!” he grinned. 

Anders shuddered at the words. “You really don’t like the Deep Roads, do you?” Bethany asked, pocket the few silvers she found. 

“They’re not a pleasant place.” 

“I know.” 

“You really don’t.” The words were not said unkindly, but Bethany went quiet. Awkwardly she fiddled before turning to focus where Aveline stood. She just wanted a few drinks, wanted tonight to be over so she didn’t blunder up any more fights or conversations. _Of course_ , she didn’t know. How could she even think to try and understand the Deep Roads? 

Maker, she was having a bad day. 

“Here,” Bethany said, handing Aveline half the coins she’d looted. “I’m sure the city guard would appreciate having these men dead.” 

Aveline’s mouth set in a hard line. “That they would, but not like this.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“ _You_ have nothing to be sorry about, you didn’t ask me to come along. Hawke did.” Bethany turned to where her brother was. Feeling her eyes, he beamed back at her, showing off a dagger he’d found on Hayder. 

“He’s an idiot sometimes,” Bethany murmured. 

“That he is. But he means well.” Sighing, she shook her head. “Keep the money, Bethany. I’m sure you could use it for something nice. Perhaps new boots?” 

Bethany flushed, looking down at her boots. “I was hoping to get them repaired,” she murmured. “but new boots would be nice as well.” If she was truthful, she didn’t really want to part with them. When they’d left Ferelden, they’d done so with few possessions. She didn’t want to give up something she held strong memories of home with. 

But if her brother kept leading her into jobs such as this, then perhaps new boots would do her some wonders. Maybe she could keep these as a vase or somewhere to store some valuables. 

“Come on!” Garret spoke, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “First round’s on me.” 

“After that, I think _all_ rounds are on you, brother,” she teased, pointing to where Aveline stood. Garret flushed, laughing awkwardly. 

“All rounds it is then. Ah, sorry for ruining your evening, Aveline.” Bethany kicked him, “and Anders,” he added quickly. 

“It’ll be fine, Hawke. Next time, warn me about the pirate,” the guard said, shaking her head. “When did you stoop so low as to help out pirates?” Bethany’s jaw clenched, but out of respect she didn’t say anything. What proof did she have? She admired Isabela but that wasn’t enough. 

“Aww, Aveline. You say that like I had standards to begin with.” 

“You do,” she shot back. “Or at least I thought you did.” 

“At this state, anything to get out from living with Gamlen is worth a shot.” 

“I’m sure it is.” 

“I just want a drink,” Anders muttered. Bethany nodded, agreeing. Though she hoped that this time, there wouldn’t be any more fights. 

Thankfully, the walk back to the Hanged Man was uninterrupted. A casual stroll with friends at night, if anything. Though she suspected walking with a guard helped ward off those who may have felt even a twitch of an urge to go up against them. 

“Here,” Bethany said, taking her brother’s coin purse as they entered the tavern. Quickly she divided a few silvers from the rest and handed back the coins. “I’ll look after our money and you can spend that on drinks for everyone.” 

Garret raised an eyebrow. “Giving me an allowance now?” 

“It’d do you good,” Aveline said. “The way you drink, you’d spend more than a few gold pieces on ale in one night.” 

“But it would be a worthy night.” 

Aveline snorted in reply, allowing Anders to pass by her to the stairs. Bethany followed, turning only to look back at her brother. He was not only bee-lining for the bar, but also towards where Isabela was drinking. “Is he going to talk to her again?” she asked. A part of her hoped she would join them for conversation. She bet Isabela had a thousand tales that could rival her books. 

“He does seem to be quite taken by her,” Anders commented. 

Bethany blinked, shaking her head. “No, he’s like that with most people. He enjoys flirting,” she assured. Aveline shook her head in mild amusement. 

“Well I hope he has _some_ standards when it comes to who he sleeps with, then.” Bethany sighed, shrugging. She didn’t know. Her brother told crude tales, but actual truths? She had no idea who he’d slept with. She didn’t care to learn either. 

Tearing her eyes away, she followed the others back to Varric’s room, smiling as he looked up from his works. “Are you working on another tale?” she asked. 

“Depends. Tell me about your evening,” he grinned. “I’m sure I can make a good story from that. With a few twists, of course.” 

“These twists wouldn’t happen to include a minotaur, would they?” Anders asked. “I liked that one, even if the ‘warden mage’ didn’t get nearly enough time in the fable.” 

“Well, it is _Hawke’s_ tales of heroism, I’m sure the Wardens tell some of yours. And no, you can’t use particular fantastical beasts more than once, otherwise the audience gets suspicious. I’m sure people would believe a _giant snake_ , however. No...why would a pirate ask you to fight a snake?” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “A griffon doesn’t work either…” 

“A sea snake guarding treasures, however,” Isabela’s voice rang from the doorway, “makes far more sense.” Bethany flinched at the words, before slowly turning to smile up at the woman. Beside her, Aveline muttered darkly under her breath. 

“You, I like,” Varric chuckled, “Hawke, are you keeping her around?” 

Behind her, Garret sidestepped forward with a pitcher of ale and a few mugs piled in grip. “She offered her services, I’m inclined to keep her around. Be handy to have someone good with daggers.” 

“I’m blushing from such a compliment,” she said, laughing as Garret nearly stumbled. “Careful now, that’s good ale you’re wasting.” 

“Now that is a joke,” Anders replied. 

“Well, you’re lucky then. You don’t have to drink any,” Garret snipped, setting down the pitcher. Anders grasped at a mug, giving a half-hearted attempt at a glare as he carefully poured everyone a drink. Hawke proudly smirked, “Apology accepted.” 

“So I take it those stories you’ve been telling aren’t all truthful then,” Isabela said, taking a seat down beside Bethany as Garret sat across from her. “Such a shame, here I was thinking the four of you went up against an ogre and an army of darkspawn.” 

“That parts true!” Bethany said, “Well, mostly true. We hadn’t met Anders then. We were still running from Lothering when the Blight hit.” 

Intrigued, Isabela’s eyes turned on her, looking her up and down. “You must be the sister, I take it?” Your much prettier than the stories described.” Bethany’s cheeks heated over the words, amusing Isabela. Quickly, in embarrassment, she buried her nose in the mug, taking in a deep drink of ale. 

Garret however, had turned to look curiously at Varric. “How _do_ you tell the ogre story?” 

“Depends on the crowd,” he shrugged. “But no matter how I tell it, they all get a kick out of you meeting Flemeth. Dragon-shape shifters tend to be a crowd please.” 

Garret laughed, shaking his head. Aveline however, didn’t find it so amusing. “I didn’t like her,” she muttered. “There was something sinister about her.” 

“But she helped us,” Bethany tried. 

“Helping people doesn’t make you good. And it wasn’t like she did it for free.” 

Bethany frowned, puzzled until she remembered. Feeling nauseous at the realization, she turned to Garret. “You know, brother. We never did deliver that necklace. You didn’t sell it by accident did you?” 

“You never got around to handing that over the Dalish?” Aveline asked, surprised. “Hawke! Wronging a Witch of the Wilds is a _very_ dangerous thing to do. I would have thought you’d have that done, months ago.” 

Awkwardly, he flushed, rubbing at the back of his neck as his gaze switched between Aveline and Bethany. “It’s been on my to-do list for a while. I just...haven’t had the time to get around doing it.” 

“You need to do it _immediately._ ” 

“She’s right, Hawke,” Varric spoke. “Even I’d be wary of wronging her. Angering a woman that can turn into a dragon is about as clever as stealing from a pirate. Probably less so.” 

From the corner of her eye, Bethany noticed Isabela’s eyebrows raise, but the woman didn’t say anything. Instead she took a mouthful of ale and reclined back in the chair, running her own eyes over the assorted people at the table. 

“What would you have me do? Leave _now_?” Garret asked. 

“Yes,” Aveline said the same time Anders muttered, “No.” 

“Tomorrow,” Bethany jumped in, quickly. “We’ll leave tomorrow.” 

“Well, I can’t go,” Aveline said, “I have patrols to attend to.” 

“I have to work at the Clinic, I can’t leave it unattended for too long,” Anders jumped in before Garret’s eyes could turn to his. 

Unhappy, Garret looked over the table. “That leaves us short a person. I guess the three of us…” he paused, focusing on Isabela suddenly. “Care for an adventure?” he asked, grinning at her broadly. Bethany hadn’t noticed before, but Anders may have been right, Garret had become rather fond of Isabela quickly. She sincerely hoped that the light flirting was his own nature and not to do with his feelings jumping so easily from Anders to her. 

Isabela blinked up from her mug to find the whole table looking down at her. “What’s happening?” 

“Tomorrow, we’re going to Sundermount to give the Dalish, Flemeth’s necklace,” Bethany explained. “Would you care to join us?” 

“We could really use another melee person.” 

Isabela’s eyes looked out at the group curiously. “Isn’t that nearly a day’s walk each way?” she asked. 

“I’m sure you’ve done a fair amount of walking yourself,” Aveline spoke sharply. Bethany nearly choked on her drink at the words, surprised by the tone. 

Isabela, however, seemed mildly perplexed before, shaking her head. “Tomorrow,” she said. “Unlike man-jaw and the healer here, _I_ have some time to waste.” 

“I’m sure you do,” Bethany heard Aveline whisper. 

“Wonderful!” Garret burst in as Isabela’s eyes narrowed down at the guards woman. “We could really use someone of your skills.” 

Bethany side-eyed Aveline wearily. Usually she was more welcoming, or at least, open to newcomers such as Varric and Anders. As her brother began forming a plan, she turned to face the red-head. “What’s wrong?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You and Isabela don’t seem to get along.” 

Aveline shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she smiled, though her lips curved rather stiffly. 

“It’s not nothing,” Bethany whispered. Aveline waved her hand, finishing the drink in grip. Instead of pouring herself another, she pushed the mug away. 

“Another time,” she murmured. “I think I’ve stayed long enough for this evening.” 

Quickly, Bethany rose too. “Did you want company, back?” 

“It’s quite all right,” she smiled. “Stay with your brother. I’ll see you in a few days if you manage to keep out of trouble.” 

Bethany chuckled, “we’ll try. Good night Aveline. Have a good day tomorrow.” 

“You too.” 

When Aveline had left, Isabela turned to face her with brows knotted curiously. “Is she always like that or am I stepping in between something with her and Hawke?” 

Bethany frowned, confused. “Her and Hawke?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’d interrupted a drawn-out battle of romance between two people,” Isabela shrugged. “Though I figured Hawke for more a-” 

“No! Maker, no. It’s nothing like that.” She laughed, shaking her head at the idea of Aveline and her brother. The two were too different, they’d clash horribly in a relationship. “I think it’s just been a long day. She really only planned on a drink for this evening.” Smiling, Bethany looked down at her own. The ale tasted horrid, worse than the stuff she had in Lothering, but it was still better than nothing. 

Isabela, however, seemed to find no problem with it, and even went for a second cup full, topping Bethany’s up before the young mage had even finished her first cup. “Drink up,” she said, winking at her. “With the nasty hit you took, you’ll feel better for it.” 

Absentmindedly, Bethany brushed over where a bruise was forming. There were some thing magic couldn’t fix. At least hers. Isabela was right, unless she had Anders fix it, it would hurt tomorrow. 

It was annoying. She’d been the only one to take a direct hit. Even Isabela, who _wasn’t_ wearing armor like her brother or Aveline, came out with only a minor scratch on her bicep. Perhaps pirating made her used to battle. Or maybe Anders had healed her without her noticing. 

“Are you _really_ a pirate?” Bethany asked suddenly. 

“Hmm?” 

“You mentioned you were a Captain of a ship before.” 

“Ah, yes.” Isabela smiled rather bittersweetly as she leant back on her chair. “All true. Such a shame really. She was a lovely ship. I knew every piece of wood in her. And then some,” she chuckled. Bethany’s eyes adverted awkwardly at the comment. 

In the background, she could hear her brother chatting adamantly with Anders and Varric over stories from their youth. It was with sudden recognition that she noticed her and Isabela were suddenly the only women at the table. 

Which wasn’t to say, all that much. Out of five, they made two, but it felt like a bigger difference in numbers as she sat besides the woman. 

Isabela was so grande; relaxed and yet provocatively poised as she drank her ale and smiled. It didn’t even seem purposeful, she just naturally was like, it seemed. Bethany however, felt as though she was just...Bethany. 

“It must be different,” she commented to Isabela, “staying at a tarvern instead of on a ship.” 

“They both have their charms,” Isabela shrugged. “On a ship you have to ration things carefully, make sure your crew doesn’t overtake their share. At a city, you look out for yourself. There’s always something to eat, until a famine strikes. But Kirkwall seems to have enough trade that it doesn’t have to worry.” 

“Which do you prefer?” 

Isabela paused, mulling over her thoughts carefully before she answered. “I miss my ship an awful lot. You get used to rise and fall over wave until flat land feels more disorientating than the ships movements. That and sex is more fun on a ship,” She grinned, tilting her head to watch Bethany closely. “There are _so_ many fun things on a ship and that’s before you get out sailing. The things I could show you…” Isabela sighed wistfully. 

The young mage, however, felt her cheeks go starling red again at the comment. “I see,” she murmured. “Did you...have someone?” she asked. It must have been the alcohol that made her bold enough to ask such a question. 

“There was my crew,” Isabela noted. “Though I tend to keep them away. Generally I picked up people up when we were docked. Sometimes they paid their way for a trip elsewhere, though people who tend to trust pirates, usually only do so in dire situations. It does make for an interesting bed partner or two if they think that at any moment they might die.” 

“Or...two?” Bethany whispered. 

Taking a sip of the ale, Isabela shrugged. “Two, more. It all depended on the situation. Why? Have you only had a single partner in bed? It can be quite fun with two, especially if you’re in the middle,” she grinned predatorily, making Bethany’s head swim as images pulled in her mind. 

Quickly, she grabbed her own drink, suddenly finding herself intrigued by Varric’s conversation about the first time he used a crossbow. Isabela’s laugh rang in her ear, heating her inside out with embarrassment. She was _not_ the dashing pirate off to save a sea-abandoned damsel, as her books described the roguish Captains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to make it very clear that I actually really strongly support Aveline/Hawke depending on the person’s Hawke. Personally, I’d think Aveline would find *my* Garret Hawke entirely too frustrating to even CONSIDER dating, though he does make a truly loyal friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing to leave, Leandra worries for her children.

Leandra’s arms crossed nervously under her chest. Outside, dawn was breaking across the horizon, but even the array of colors couldn’t shift her mood. It was with a frown that she watched her son hoist the knapsack of supplies high onto his shoulders as he explained what was happening. “We’ll be fine, Mother,” he assured, turning to kiss her cheek. “It’s a trip to the mountains. One of the least dangerous jobs we’ve taken.”

“For the witch.”

“Who we owe for saving us. _Twice_.”

From the bedroom doorway, Bethany watched her family. Garret never was very good at convincing their mother, but sometimes he got through to her with reason. Slowly, as her brother patted her shoulder, Mother nodded in agreement. It was necessary to pay their debts, they all knew that, but even still, Bethany could see that she worried for them.

“When will you be back?”

“Later tonight if the weather holds.”

“Go over it again. Your plan.”

“Mother-”

“I just need to hear it. So I know if you’re late that…”

Garret sighed, licking his lips before he repeated what he’d already told her twice this morning.

Turning away, Bethany fixed her own bag across her shoulders before grabbing her staff from beside the bed. She had everything, she’d made sure of it. Inside of her, her stomach twisted nervously. This wasn’t their first possibly-overnight adventure, but being that far away from home still made her feel a little tense, and excited over the prospect of visiting the elves.

Bethany looked out at the living room. With the door wide open, she could hear her family talking about her as though she wasn’t within ear-shot. “But do you have to take your sister with you? Why not Aveline, or-?”

“Aveline has to patrol today. Besides, Bethany can hold her own.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you two get up to,” her mother warned, “dragging your sister around, having her cast magic in the shadows of Kirkwall. What happens if the Templars see?”

“They’ll think she’s part of the Kirkwall Circle, or from another Circle on a scholar-leave. As long as we’re careful they won’t think anything.” Shaking his head, Garret dismissed their mother’s words. “She can handle her self, mother,” he repeated. Smiling to herself, Bethany watched as her mother uncrossed and then re-crossed her arms at the argument.

After last night, she had worried that her brother may have left without her this morning. Or told her mother of what _almost_ happened in the Chantry. But he didn’t. They came home, crept into bed and he hadn’t said a word to her or Mother. Maybe he knew that if he ever dared to try to keep her away, she’d hit him over the head with her staff until sense was knocked back into him.

“But she’s only nineteen!” her mother shrilled as a final argument.

“I’ll be fine,” Bethany replied calmly, coming out from the doorway to hug her mother. “It’s a trip to Sundermount. _Nothing_ is going to happen. We’re just visiting the elven tribe.” Bethany squeezed her arms around her, feeling her mother cling back just as tightly. After a moment, Garret coughed awkwardly, forcing Bethany to pull away. “We’ll be back later tonight.”

Nodding, Leandra sighed as her eyes fell to the dirt covered floor in defeat. Her children were leaving, wether she wanted them to or not. Swallowing back any more argument, she lifted her chin back up again to look between her children. “Did you eat enough?”

“Yes.”

“Did you pack food and water-”

_“Yes_ ,” she laughed. “Mother, relax. There aren’t any templars out there. I’m far safer doing this than I am going to the markets here. I’ll be with Garret. And we’re taking Varric and Isabela with us.”

“Isabela?” her mother questioned. Suddenly, the dark brown eyes were upon hers and her brother’s accusingly. “who’s Isabela? Aren’t you taking Anders?” Between the two of them, the Hawke siblings shifted nervously on their feet. “Well? Who is this woman?”

Garret rubbed his forehead, sending Bethany a sharp stare. “Did you have to mention Isabela?” he hissed.

Apologetically, Bethany shrugged. “I didn’t think.”

“I can tell.”

As a boot began tapping impatiently on the ground, Bethany turned and smiled at her mother warmly. “It’s fine Mother. You like Aveline. Another woman is good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Perhaps I should meet her, make sure-” she stopped suddenly as Garret’s eyes went wide with fear. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me-”

“Trust me, Mother,” Bethany jumped in before their trip could be cut short. “You know how awkward it’d be if we had to ask Isabela over to get your permission. We’re not children. Besides, I think Garret fancies her.” Under his mother’s eyes, Garret went a startling red. “And you know that he’d never like a girl he didn’t consider worthy of our family. You raised us better than that.”

Catching on to what she was doing, Garret nodded, agreeing with everything she said. “Isabela is really...different to most women,” he said.

Bethany side-eyed him. Shaking her head at the awkwardly used words, she leant forward and kissed her mother’s cheek a last time before grabbing her brother’s arm. “How about another time, we invite her over for dinner or something?” she asked.

“Dinner?” Leandra asked.

“Dinner,” she agreed. “Then you can meet her and see how wonderful she is, right brother?”

“Right.”

Behind them, Gamlen grunted from his room, “Just let them go Leandra so I can get some sleep. It’s too early for this racket.”

Their mother paused before her shoulder’s finally sagged in defeat. “If you trust her, then I guess I should as well.” Beaming, Bethany smiled proudly at her brother. “Be safe, and we’ll organize some time for dinner later this month.”

Bethany could feel her brother tensing, but before he said anything to ruin it, she quickly began pushing him out the door. Finally, they parted with a last goodbye as their mother watched from the doorway. It wasn’t until they had walked down the steps, towards the Hanged Man to pick the others up that they spoke again.

“I _don’t_ plan on bringing Isabela home,” he grunted. “Could you imagine the fit mother would have?”

“Why? Isabela _is_ wonderful, and nice. Though...I guess she can be quite crude.”

“You guess?”

“Oh all right, she can be quite terrible at times, but she’s still a good person.”

Garret laughed, “Could you imagine Mother’s face if they met?”

It wasn’t hard. She could already picture her mother’s face if she saw the lack of pants Isabela wore. And that was _before_ Isabela opened her mouth and began chatting adamantly about sex, or just outright flirting. “Perhaps it’s best they don’t meet until it’s _absolutely_ necessary,” she whispered, already feeling queasy at the thought.

“Exactly.”

Kicking at the dirt, Bethany fiddled with the staff in her hand. She should string it into its holster on her back, but the bag was in the way. Mostly the supplies they carried were strictly _just in case_ such as an array of potions, a few injury kits and a bedroll. But it wasn’t too heavy, it just took up a lot of room on her back.

“Do you think we’ll have to wake them up?” she asked.

“I don’t know many people who can get up just as the sun’s rising,” he replied. “Could you wake up Isabela? I have an odd feeling that she doesn’t sleep in clothes and as interesting as that would be to see, I’d rather not have that image stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I wouldn’t get anything done.” Bethany rolled her eyes, her own cheeks heating at the thought of waking up a naked Isabela. Maybe she’d learn if that tunic was padded or if Isabela _had_ been graced by the gods.

“But I don’t know where Isabela’s room is,” she fought. “Maybe you should get them both up and I’ll order breakfast for them.”

“She pointed it out last night, it’s-” he paused, entering the Hanged Man, “I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s already awake.”

Towards the back of the tavern, Isabela sat at a table reading a thickly-bound book. It must have been interesting, because the woman’s eyes didn’t look up at they approached the suspiciously damp table. Nora, however, grabbed her attention briefly as she took Isabela’s empty plate and mug away. There was a small comment shared between them before the amber eyes returned to reading, still blind to their arrival.

“I didn’t take her for a reader,” her brother muttered.

“People surprise you in the best ways,” Bethany shrugged. To be fair, they’d only known Isabela since last night and Bethany figured it was hard to make judgements on someone when majority of the time you spent was either fighting or drinking. Though she had a distinct feeling that Isabela’s brazen behavior wouldn’t change much depending on the time of day or circumstances.

As they arrived at the table, Bethany tilted her head, sneaking a look at the book’s title. _Hessarian's Spear_? It was an odd title, one she assumed to be a romanticized tale of Andraste and Hessarian. Though she supposed that it could an entire book on the historical account, however an entire thick novel on _that_ sounded like a dull read, even for herself. Frowning, Bethany looked up at the enthralled Isabela. The pirate hadn’t even glanced from the pages, even as Garret’s shadow past over her. Instead, her face furrowed in thought as she read the contents of the novel.

“Good story I take it?” Her brother questioned.

Isabela shut the book, placing it down on the table. “I’ve read better,” she shrugged. “So I take it we’re ready to leave, then?”

“Just waiting on Varric. You know, I thought _you_ would be the one I’d have trouble getting to wake up at dawn,” he replied amused, sitting down across from her. Bethany took to remain standing, rolling her staff between her hands and entirely avoiding the disgusting chair. The back of the tavern smelt worse than by near the fire.

“Who said I went to sleep? I had quite a thrilling evening.”

“I take it you had a good time after we left?”

Isabela chuckled, “it was certainly interesting.”

“Must you two be so filthy?” Bethany questioned, her stomach rolling uncomfortably at the idea. “It’s far too early for this.”

“Nonsense. Mornings make for the best sex,” Isabela replied. “Either that or you’re trying to quietly slip out from their bed as you curse the ale you drank. All in good humor, however.”

“Which one were you, then?” Garret asked.

“Well I can’t kiss and tell _all_ my secrets.” Mentally, Bethany was slapping her own forehead in frustration.

“Oh come on. You can’t just tease and-”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing sweet thing.”

“But-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, Isabela shushed him. “Be a good boy and I’ll tell you about my evenings on a later night. Preferably when we know each other better. I can’t just trust my secrets with _anyone_.”

Awkwardly, Bethany sighed. She really did _not_ want to listen any further. Turning away, she ran her eyes around the tavern, frowning at the area. It really was _disgusting_ and not just in smell. The room was dotted with stragglers from last night, where a few people were passed out in corners, sleeping with hoods pulled over to hide their face, as others seemed to already have begun their drinking. Or perhaps they just hadn’t stopped. She couldn’t tell.

Isabela shoved the book away into her bag, catching Bethany’s attention before she tossed the knapsack over into the corner. “Go wake up Varric and I’ll talk to sweetness.”

“Sweetness?” Garret questioned the choice of words.

“Your dear sister looks lonely. Now, go wake Varric or otherwise we’ll be camping out tonight,” she pushed, shoving Garret towards the stairs. Bethany watched her brother awkwardly leave, confused as to what had just happened. Looking back to Isabela, she tilted her head in confusion.

“Do you give everyone pet names?” she asked curiously.

“Only those I like. And I like you.” Isabela chuckled as the sight of the subtle pink rushing across the mage’s cheeks. Bethany hated it, hated how easily it could be caused. No one had made her this self-conscious with so few words since Lothering. “Come, sit. I’ll get us a drink.”

“I think I’ll pass on the drink. It’s a little too early for me.”

“Suit yourself.” She gestured towards the barkeep before smiling back at Bethany. “Something on your mind, sweetness? You seem a little distracted.” Bethany shivered at the pet name. She wasn’t sure what to think of that purr, it curled hotly inside of her, uncomfortably thick and humid. Tightening her grip on the staff, she bit her tongue to keep a blank expression. “You look awfully flustered. Do you have a secret?”

“No.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“It’s so... _dirty_ here,” she spoke suddenly, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She couldn’t allow the focus of conversation be on her. “And I think some people have been using the corners as a privvy.”

Isabela blinked only for a moment before smiling at her. “Yes, I believe so. Drunken idiots find it hard to walk outside.”

“How do you _stand_ it here?”

Isabela chuckled, “Drink enough, my dear, and standing is the least of your worries.”

Bethany shuddered, but before she could muster a reply, Varric’s frame began slowly walking down the stairs, still half asleep.

“Why did I agree to this?” he asked turning to squint back up at Garret. Her brother was only a few steps behind the dwarf, looking quite uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m even getting paid for this job.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Garret asked. “Last night you were muttering on about stories of Flemeth and how fantastic this opportunity could be, but now that it’s ‘too early’ you’d rather curl up in bed and miss it?”

“If it means waiting until the sun is actually _in_ the sky, then yes,” he replied. Groaning he blinked over at Isabela. “How are _you_ alive. I’m sure you went to bed after me.”

_“I_ haven’t slept.”

“You’ll be fun to take,” he muttered.

“Nonsense. I can go a few days without sleeping and still function better than you on your best day.” Varric snorted at the comment.

“You wish Rivaini.”

“Come on,” Garret broke in, stepping between the two. “Let’s make a move before it’s too late. I’d rather not have to sleep outside tonight.”

“What? Leave before I’ve had my breakfast?” Varric asked. “Not in your life, Hawke. You want me to go, you’re going to have to buy me breakfast first.” At the aghast look her brother gave, Bethany quickly fished around in the coin purse, pulling out a few coins before handing them to Varric.

“Could you eat quickly?” she asked him, hopefully.

“For you, Sunshine, anything.”

Garret’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, but as the dwarf walked off, he didn’t comment. Varric had a habit of making nicknames, and Bethany didn’t mind been calling Sunshine. It was better than Sweetness. That name rose and fell inside of her with a rush of strange feelings. All of it unnerving. Turning, she looked to where Isabela was. The woman had risen at some point and had opted to pose herself lazily against the wall, beside her bag.

Looking her over, Bethany’s eyes scanned up from the tall boots, the exposed thighs, all the way over the tunic to where Isabela had crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I’m bored of this, can we leave already?” she asked, catching Bethany’s eyes.

If she caught her looking, she didn’t make a move to comment.

“After Varric gets breakfast,” Bethany replied, smiling as her brother pouted beside her.

“You keep giving our money away,” Garret whined. She turned at the accusation, giving him a sharp stare that could rival their mother’s.

“ _You_ bought all the rounds last night, not me. I even told you no, but did you listen to me? Of course not. Besides, how much money has Varric gotten us with work, not to mention that he’s going on this ‘adventure’ for _free_.”

“But we _need_ that money, for the expedition.”

“That Varric got us into,” she counted. “Are you just looking for a fight because you’re bored, or because you’re sulking?”

Groaning, her brother replied dully, “Varric is wonderful. His chest hair is magnificent. I can’t believe his godly perfection. Can we just leave? Look, even Isabela wants to get moving.”

“Hey! Don’t drag me into this,” the pirate scoffed. “Besides, five minutes of food might save hours worth of Varric dragging his feet from hunger. Dwarves can be quite petty, you know.”

“I heard that,” came a distant grumble.

Isabela smirked, “see?”

Before her brother could argue, a hand reached up and tugged at the armor he was wearing. “Excuse me, Serah?” Garret turned, looking down to see a small boy standing at half his height, holding out an envelope. “Letter for you.”

“Oh! Ah...Beth?”

Rolling her eyes, Bethany stepped forward and fished out a few bronze coins before handing them over. Eagerly, the courier took them with a quick, “thank you, Serah!” and ran off, out of the door.

“He was eager to leave.”

Isabela shrugged. “Probably off to spend the coin he just made. Though he looked a bit scrawnier than the usual couriers. Must be new.” She paused, tilting her head, “or an addict, I suppose.”

“An addict?” Bethany frowned. “But he’s just a boy.”

“And probably from Darktown. It’s easier to get them hooked when they’re young. People don’t suspect kids, they’re always looking for signs on the adults. See a child and they think ‘sick kid’. Plus, once you get kids hooked, they’d do just about anything for their next hit. Poor sods.” Bethany stared, horrified at the idea of children and drugs.

“But he’s just a _kid_ ,” she repeated. “He should be playing game, not... _drugs._ ”

Softly, Isabela smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Sweetness. I’m sure he’s just underfed.”

Bethany bit her lip, looking at Isabela unconvinced. In her grip, she ran her fingers over the staff’s runes, processing her thoughts. What did Carver used to say? ‘ _What was the point worrying if you couldn’t do anything?’_

But the words rang hollow, and only made her sad to remember her twin. Blinking down at her boots, she swallowed back anything she may be feeling and masked her features. It wouldn’t do to feel sorry. She knew how bad things got in Darktown, she’d seen it herself and hadn’t Anders spoken about the things he dealt with?

Taking a breath, she looked up to her brother. Standing next to her, he was quietly reading the open letter with a slight frown across his features.

“What’s the letter?” She asked him, her voice slightly hoarse. Peaking over her brother’s arm, she looked over what she could see. At the name scrawled on the bottom of the parchment, Bethany tensed. “Meeran? What does _he_ want?”

Folding up the letter, Garret shrugged. “Just a job offer. I’ll think up on it later.” Tucking it away, he grinned out at them, forcing a cheerful mood. “So, are we ready to leave yet?”

“Just about,” Bethany spoke softly. Leaning against her staff, she looked over to where Varric was sitting at the bar. He was halfway through eating something grey, sludgy and entirely unappetizing. But he seemed happy enough.

“Is the food always that horrible here?” she asked.

Garret scoffed, “We’re in Lowtown, what did you expect? Ham drizzled in sweet sauce?”

From the wall, Isabela let out a soft moan in hunger at the sudden thought. “Oh, what I’d give for that.”

“Would you give…your boots?” Garret asked.

Isabela tensed at the words before playfully glaring at him. “They wouldn’t look good on you. However, they might on your sister.” Her eyes turned to leer over at Bethany, and instantly the mage began focusing very hard on a very peculiar looking stain. She could feel the pirate stepping closer, leaning over her shoulder. “Get me ham drizzled in sweet sauce and I’ll loan them to you for an evening,” she whispered softly beside her ear.

The heat of the breath rolled over Bethany, and it took everything she had not to shiver.

“As tempting as the offer is, I don’t have the coin to spare to buy and cook you ham,” she managed to reply. It was a miracle she kept her voice even. “If you buy the ingredients, I can cook it for you though.”

Isabela sighed, pulling away, “a tempting offer, but not worth the boots. I’ll give you a kiss for it, however. I’ll even let you choose where I place it.”

“No! Nope. No you’re not corrupting my sister,” Garret exclaimed, grabbing Bethany’s arm to pull her away. Compliantly, she followed her brother, eyes wide as she barely managed not to squeak from Isabela’s comment, even as the woman’s chuckle ran over her. “Let’s just leave before anything else happens. Varric are you ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hopefully this is okay. My sister managed to give me the flu :/ thank you for that. Sharing is not caring in that sense. So writing is both easier because it’s the only thing I have motivation to do, and harder as half my words aren’t here. So I really am hoping that this worked out how I wanted it to, even if a subplot that was meant to be elaborated on didn’t because characters wouldn’t work with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dwarf, a pirate, a mage and a warrior take a leisurely stroll to Sundermount, no...something isn't right there.

At the foot of Sundermount, they took a moment off the path to check their bearings. Bethany watched as her brother laid down the map against a tree stump, looking over it to decide which side of the forked path they should take.

“The climb should only take a few hours with a direct path. The Dalish tribe is around this area here,” he said, circling his finger over a marked spot on the paper, high on Sundermout. “All we have to do is follow this road up and circle our way to here. Hopefully there won’t be too many thieves looking for an easy target.”

“Or darkspawn. There’s an entrance to the deep roads not too far from there,” Varric said, pointing to an area at the edge of the map. At the curious looks he received from both Hawke siblings, he quickly explained, “Bartrand was looking at it as an option, but it’s too unstable, and dangerous.”

Making a some ‘Ah,’ of understanding, Garret nodded and looked back over the mapped area. “All right, so we’ll be careful, and try using this road here to snake our way up. It might take an extra hour but…” the rest of his voice trailed off as Bethany walked away, over to where Isabela was lying down on the grass. The pirate had reclined herself backwards against a fallen log, crossing her boots at the ankles as she seemingly slept in the warm sunlight.

“They’re still talking?” she asked, open one eye to peer out at Bethany.

“Yes. They’re talking about the Deep Roads again.”

“Ah yes, I’d rather stay out of that adventure, if you don’t mind.”

“The Deep Roads expedition? Why?”

“Stone, small spaces and me aren’t what you’d call the ‘best of friends’,” she explained stiffly. It was the first time Bethany heard humor touch only lightly on her words. “I’d rather be locked up in the brink of a ship, at least there I know the wood can be broken.”

“So if Garret asks you to come, you’ll say no?”

Chuckling, Isabela looked up beneath her lashes, “I would never say no to your brother.”

“That’s...not what I meant.”

“I think it is. But if you guys really need me for that spelunking trip, I guess I can be of service. Fear, after all, makes the fight much more sweeter,” she smirked up at Bethany, watching the mage’s brow furrow at her. “Something the matter?”

“No. It’s just...you never seem afraid in battle. I mean, at least not last night.”

Isabela sat up straighter, rolling her shoulders as she smirked up. “Of course not. Half the game is bluffing. If the enemy knows you’re afraid, they’ll become empowered. The trick is to pretend you’re not, allow something else to overtake your mind, whether emotional or otherwise.”

“Like...anger?” she asked, thinking of how Aveline fought.

“Sure. I mean, why not? For some it’s fury, other’s prefer to concentrate and focus on each precise movement. Your brother seems to be the latter, you don’t hear him speak much.”

“And you?” Bethany asked softly.

“What do you think, Sweetness?” she asked. “You’ve seen me in a few fights now."

“You...seem to...” she frowned, looking for the words. Bethany was half afraid she might say the wrong thing as she mustered up the courage to say, “you enjoy yourself.”

“That I do,” she laughed. “You should too. Fighting is fun. Exhilarating. Isn’t it fun for you to light half the battlefield on fire with all that magic you have stored up deep inside of you?”

Bethany chuckled lowly, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “No. Not really. And I’m not half as powerful as you think.”

“I think you’re twice as powerful as you think,” she counted. Biting the inside of her cheeks, Bethany looked down at her feet, shifting from one foot to another. She didn’t know how to reply to that. A simple thank you felt wrong. Isabela wasn’t complimenting her. And she certainly didn’t agree with Isabela.

Taking a breath, Bethany nodded her head, chewing on her lip. She wished she had her staff to fiddle with, her hands felt empty without it. But she’d placed it down by her bag. “I guess we’ll be moving again soon,” she said, looking sideways to where Varric and Garret were huddled together, “Brother looks like he’s almost finished plotting.”

Isabela, sighed, rolling her head. “All this walking is boring. When are the highwaymen going to attack, and try to steal our gold?”

Bethany laughed, “Not the quest you were hoping for?”

“No. Lots of walking and not enough fighting. Even the conversation is dull. And it’s not like I can read my book and walk at the same time.”

Tilting her head, Bethany’s eyes wandered to the knapsack beside the pirate. “Is that the book you were reading this morning, ‘Hessarian's Spear’?” Isabela hummed, shutting her eyes briefly as the words washed over her in a shiver. “I don't think he had a spear in the legends.”

Isabela reached over into her pack and pulled out the thick book. “He does in this one. Read the description.”

Carefully, Bethany took hold of the book before opening the cover to read the short description. Her eyes darted quickly over the lines, scanning the contents before beginning to murmur the book’s summary out loud.

"Andraste knelt before no man but her Maker, but she hadn't counted on the archon Hessarian." Her brow furrowed in thought. The summary sounded similar to the romantic novels she had stashed away under her bed, but giant adventures that end in professed love didn’t really seem the type for Isabela. Her curiosity peaked, she read further, “Can Hessarian penetrate the tight-knit defenses of the warrior-prophetess? Will she be prepared to face the full blast of his...power? Wait a minute...” Frowning in thought, Bethany flicked a few chapters in, briefly reading over a few paragraphs before snapping the book shut, “Isabela! This is a vulgar thing!”

“You want to borrow it?” she asked, chuckling as Bethany’s face began growing extraordinarily red from the few line she’d read. Andraste was not meant to be described doing such...acts. That was pornographic material. Blasphemous!

“No!” she screeched in horror, giving the book back quickly. Her behaviour only appeared to amuse Isabela further.

“You sure? It has pictures!”

Sharply turning away, Bethany snapped her hands over her ears, trying to deafen them from Isabela’s chuckle, “not listening! I’m not listening!” she shouted, scrambling to run back to her brother. Standing safely away from the pirate, she dropped her hands by her sides in tight fists, and clenched her jaw tight as Isabela laughed from afar.

“Everything okay?” Garret asked her slowly.

Rigidly, Bethany folded her arms under her chest, huffing as the laugh rang loud in her ears. She could feel her inflamed cheeks burning from embarrassment. “It’s fine,” she muttered.

“You look flushed. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Are you-”

“She’s just getting educated,” Isabela called from the distance. “And by the way, I’ve put it in your bag incase you wanted to read it later.” Bethany stiffened at the comment, turning to see Isabela slinking back into her reclined position, away from her now, overly stuffed bag. Bethany groaned, seeing a corner of the book protruding rather largely through the material of her backpack.

Beside her, Garret stared between the women blankly, “what did Isabela just put into your bag?”

“Nothing.”

“Beth-”

“Nothing.” Taking a breath, she rolled her eyes skyward and counted to ten before smiling at both her brother and Varric, “let’s just get moving, shall we? We want to get there before dark.”

Garret watched her curiously stalk back over to her bag and staff, lifting both in her grip as she ignored the pirate. There was a small moment where Isabela swaggered up to him, still chuckling at the heated cheeks Bethany wore brightly, but nothing else was said on the matter. It was relatively clear that Isabela had partially corrupted his sister in some way, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how.

He just hoped that the corruption was only a single event and not a slow chip away at Bethany’s innocence.

“You Hawkes are so adorable,” she smirked at him, her own bag swinging freely from one shoulder. “Now, if only I could make you blush so easily, my day would be complete.”

“Keep trying, Isabela. If you only knew the stories I had.”

“Oh, I’ve heard some,” she purred. “That’s why I’m interested.” Chuckling, she mockingly patted his shoulder as Garret, for the first time, struggled with an adequate reply for her.

Behind them, pure magic crackled in Bethany’s fist, her emotions running overtime as she stared between her brother and the pirate. No one had that effect on her. No one made her so wound up that sparks ran up and down her fingers, unrestrained.

But then, no one purposely went around pushing people’s buttons like Isabela did. From the short time she’d know her, Bethany had witnessed no less than six occasions where the pirate had said something extraordinarily outlandish just to spark a response of some kind. All six occasions included, of course, sex in some way, shape or form.

A self-loathing part of her wished that the entire act of lovemaking didn’t make her go crimson in thought, her stomach quivering nervously at the image of two people-

“You alright there, Sunshine?” Varric asked, coming up to stand by her.

Startled, the magic crackled inside of her, coming out of her hands in electric licks against her skin. Bethany shut her eyes, focusing her mind on breathing until it dulled down to a gentle hum. “I’m fine, just…” she trailed off, smiling. “Emotional, I guess. It’s harder to control magic when you can’t control your emotions.”

“Isabela does seem to have that effect on people.”

Breathing out a laugh, Bethany rolled her eyes, “She’s impossible.”

“And you seem to be quite taken by her.”

Confused, Bethany’s steps slowed as she turned to blink at him. Ahead of her and Varric, she could see her brother and Isabela chatting adamantly as they began climbing the inclining road. “Taken?” she echoed. “I guess. She’s interesting and being her friend is-”

Varric chuckled, walking ahead of her, back onto the Sundermount road. “Not that kind of taken, Sunshine.”

“Then what kind of taken do you mean?”

Adjusting Bianca on his back, the dwarf just sighed as he looked back, smiling softly. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You’ll either realise one day, or there will be nothing to realise.” Nervousness twitched her fingers as she felt a rush of heat through her.

“Varric,” she said, quickly catching up to him. “You know that...I’m not that way inclined, right?”

Chuckling again, Varric raised his eyes to hers, “You make it sound like you choose what you prefer. Sometimes it just is, Sunshine. Look at your brother, he seems to have fun, regardless of who.” Bethany looked up. In front of them, her brother was bumping into Isabela’s side, joking around playfully with her. Bethany felt a pang hit her at the ease between them. “He acts the same around Anders.”

“So?”

“So I don’t understand. You could be the same. At ease with who and what. And you know, if you play with Isabela right back she’s less likely to tease you. Half the fun for her is getting a rise out of her opponent, get rid of that and she’ll lose interest quickly enough. If that’s what you’d really prefer.”

Sighing, Bethany watched as Isabela pushed Garret away, laughing as he lost his balance and stumbled sideways. “I’m not my brother,” she whispered under her breath. “He’s...always had it easier in some ways. Not being a mage, being afraid of what will come next, made him quicker to laugh things off.”

“Do you wish you weren’t a mage?”

“Every day.” She went quiet then, stepping faster to move away. Thankfully, Varric didn’t try to stop her. She even felt him drop back to allow her distance.

She didn’t want to explain herself, explain how complicated she felt being a mage. She’d much rather have Isabela tease her again than burden people with her fears.

Her staff hit the ground harder with each thought-filled step, but even the thrums through the wood didn’t distract her thoughts. All she could think was that every night she spent the time falling asleep, wishing and praying to the Maker to take back his curse. She even pleaded to other gods and revered beings, anything that may be listening to her.

It wasn’t that she hated the power. She loved magic, loved the feeling humming through her, but it wasn’t worth the burden, that all-consuming fear she felt every night before her dreams side-stepped into the fade; was she too angry that evening? Too arrogant? Or envious or a hundred other things, and if any of those thing were true, would this time be the time the demons sensed her.

And then there were the templars. That kept her awake some nights, wondering if the templar she passed earlier, glanced a little too long, noticed a little too much.

She’d be plagued by nightmares, the sound of snapping wood as the door was kicked in and the templar-knights filled her room, taking her kicking and screaming before they burned her home down with her family inside. Perhaps they’d locked her in a cage forever, or maybe they’d just make her tranquil. She wasn’t sure which was the kinder option.

Some days she thought about running. After her father died, she spent days thinking about the Wilds. How easily it’d be to just run. Now she thought about the Circle more and more. Would it really be so bad to just...give in?

“You okay?” Blinking quickly, she forced a smile and laughed softly at her brother’s concerned features.

“Of course. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what to buy first when we come rich from the Deep Roads. I thought that some Orlesian Silk Dress would be nice. Something excessive.” Garret laughed.

“I think first, you’ll need new boots.”

Bethany sighed, looking down at her own. The dirt road had lifted dust on them, hiding most of the scuffs and scrapes, but there were still a few seeable holes where the leather had been worn away, and the laces that tied them were differently colored as well as frayed. “I know,” Bethany murmured, “I haven’t had a chance to go to the markets yet. Maybe when we get back.”

“You shook take Isabela, she apparently knows some good shops and can probably haggle better than most.”

“Isabela, eh?”

“What...?” he asked.

Smiling at him genuinely this time, she bumped his shoulder with her own. “So...you and Isabela?”

“Me and Isabela, what?”

“You know?” She shrugged, biting her lip. “You just seem close. Like closer.”

Garret laughed, “We’re not. She’s just...Isabela. Besides, you two seemed friendly last night. I saw you two giggling at the end of the table like a pair of gossiping chantry Sisters. To be honest, I actually thought you were talking about some of my more embarrassing secrets.”

Bethany frowned, puzzled at her memories. They were still fuzzy from the alcohol and lack of sleep, but she didn’t remember laughing that much. She just remembered Isabela interrogating her for information, and making her ridiculously red with her own stories. “She may have been giggling, I was trying to block out what she was saying.”

Chucking, her brother shook his head. “Speaking of, what did she put in your bag?”

“A book,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “The book she was reading this morning. It’s nothing.”

“What’s it about?” His eyes narrowed at her and Bethany quickened her pace. If she said what it actually was, there was a chance that he’d take the book and burn it, and as pornographic as it was, it would still be a shame to destroy something that someone had slaved hours over. “Come on, Beth. Tell me. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, just kept saying that it was ‘educational’.”

Of course she’d say it was education. Bethany frowned, eyeing Isabela’s form unhappily. Ahead of her, she watched Isabela’s hips sway with each step, and with each one of those steps the tunic-dress she wore, rose and fell, barely covering that damningly well formed ass.

Pulling her eyes away, Bethany cursed the ground.

There was a difference between appreciation and lust. She admired Isabela’s well formed body, like she did other women. It was no different than admiring good art, or clothes. Varric didn’t know what he was talking about. And curse him for making making her question her own motives.

As if sensing her thoughts, a warm chuckle came from Isabela as she bent over slightly to speak with Varric. Again, Bethany averted her gaze, feeling a warmth rush over her face.

She should bring up a conversation of pants one day. Or at least shorts.

“Beth?”

“What?” she spat quickly, looking suddenly guilty. Her brother stared down at her oddly.

“The...book?” he asked.

“Oh. Ah, It’s nothing. Just one about Andraste and Hessarian.” Garret’s face became blank at the words, she may as well have been speaking elven for all the good he understood. “The archon? He was the one who ordered her death, remember? Oh come on, Leliana used to tell us tales back in Lothering. He was the first one who converted to the Chant of Light. The story is really quite romantic in a way.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded. “I see.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue, no.”

Resisting the urge to slap his shoulder condescendingly, she opted to laugh instead. “Don’t worry brother, it’s probably too boring for you anyway.” Garret sighed, running fingers through his dark hair as he smiled crookedly at her.

“You’re the smart one, remember? I’m just the older brother with the sword to scare away all the boys.”

“I knew there was a reason why they aren't flocking around me.”

“They were too distracted by my chiseled good looks?”

“Oh sweet thing, you’re more ruggedly looking with that beard growing,” Isabela spoke, turning around to face them. Bethany hadn’t realised how fast she’d been walking until then. They’d managed to catch up with Isabela and Varric.

“Ruggedly, eh?” Garret smirked. “Enough to charm you?”

“Enough to rival Varric’s chest hair,” Isabela returned.

“Hey. Nothing beats the chest hair,” Varric spoke up defensively.

“Oh, I know. But it’s fun to tease him. Your chest hair rivals all the men in Free Marches, Varric, perhaps all of Thedas,” she replied playfully, her hand reaching out to touch Varric’s chest. Quickly, it was slapped away. “Fine, play hard to get. It only makes me want you more.”

“Keep trying, Rivaini. I’m a one-crossbow-man.”

“Oh,” she purred, “Bianca can definitely join us.” Bethany watched, confused at what was happening, as again, Isabela’s hands were slapped away.

“Oh shit,” Garret muttered beside her.

“What- oh.” Bethany looked up, further along on the side of Sundermount, she could see evidence of a landslide. If it’d fallen, it’d happened behind a thick brush of trees, but having seen the map herself, there was a good chance that it’d fallen directly on the path they needed to take. “It might not have hit the path,” she said weakly, “maybe if we check it out...”

“There’s no point in all of us going. I’ll go and check it out, it’s only a short distance away.” Scratching his head awkwardly, Garret sighed. “We’ll have to double back and take the long way around up the other side of the cliff.”

“That means we won’t get to camp until nightfall, doesn’t it?” Isabela groaned. “There’s no way I’m going anywhere near the Dalish camp at nightfall. They’re trigger-happy as it is, shadows will just make them even more paranoid.”

“Alright, well if the landslide hit, we’ll set up camp for the night in some clearing,” Garret decided. “But there’s no point in making choices until after I check out the landslide. Just...wait here and I’ll check it out. If we’re lucky we might be able to move some rocks and get past safely.” Nodding he made a step forward, only to stop and turn back. “Please don’t corrupt my sister. I’d like to come back to her in one piece.”

“Of course!” Isabela beamed.

“Would never think of it,” Varric added, smirking as he stood beside the pirate.

“Maker save me,” Bethany whispered. “And stay safe, brother.”

"I will.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was heavily inspired by all the fics I've read. When I come across a particular trope I'll make reference to it. Most particularly I loved heart skipped a beat and 'when I caught it you were out of reach' by faithtastic (which I heavily recommend)


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